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1914 

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COPYRIGHT    1914 

BY 
MAY  C.  LASSEN 


ftT) 


This  book  of  natural  poems  is  lovingly  dedicated  to  my  sister, 

ALBERTINE, 

known  in  religion  as 
SISTER  MARY  BERCHMANS, 

of  the 

Academy  of  Our  Lady  of  Mercy, 
Red  Bluff,  California 


293720 


Poetry,  Music  and  Flowers 

All  three  God-given  gifts  from  Heaven.  Balm 
to  the  wounded  heart,  to  the  stricken  soul  and  all 
within  our  immediate  posession  could  we  but  real- 
ize it.  It  is  in  everyone's  nature  to  dream  or  to 
pine.  To  dream  for  the  things  we  most  desire  or 
to  pine  for  what  we  cannot  obtain.  A  dream  is  but 
a  thought  to  realization,  to  realize  is  to  act  and 
thus  accomplish  the  end  we  have  in  view.  While 
on  the  other  hand  to  pine  is  to  fade  away  and  per- 
ish in  the  depths  of  inaction,  thus  accomplishing 
nothing  in  this  active  world  of  ours  into  which  we 
were  born  for  some  future  purpose.  We  cannot  all 
be  poets  but  we  can  all  cultivate  and  beautify  our 
minds  daily  with  the  reading  of  some  good  poem  to 
lift  us  up  and  out  of  our  despondency  and  despair,  our 
sorrow  or  bereavement.  What  more  bright  and 
cheery  verse  to  drive  away  the  blues  or  discontent- 
ment than  the  following  one: 

Keep  Sweet.     The  robin  in  the  tree 
Chirps  forth  his  cheery  song  to  me, 

So  many  times,  as  tho'  he  knew, 
That  I  was  sorrowful  and  blue. 

Still  from  his  perch,  high  overhead 
Keep  sweet,  keep  sweet,  keep  sweet  he  said 

And  if  you  listen  you  may  hear, 
His  voice  musical  with  cheer. 


Cheer  up,  I  heard  it  all  along 
The  way,  from  trees  came  forth  the  song 

So  many  times  as  though  the  words 
Were  messages  from  cheery  birds. 

Through  all  the  woods,  their  music  rang 
Cheer  up,  cheer  up,  cheer  up  they  sang. 

And  if  you  listen,  you  may  hear 
The  message  hopeful  with  good  cheer. 

Don't  fret.      I  heard  the  branches  stir 
With  many  a  hopeful  messenger 

Who  in  his  wisdom  seemed  to  know 
That  I  was  worn,  and  grieving  so 

So  from  the  branches  overhead 
Don't  fret,  don't  fret,  don't  fret  he  said. 

Until  in  listening,  I  forgot 
My  troubles  all,  and  fretted  not. 

And  again.  When  the  Angel  of  Death  has 
hovered  nigh  and  taken  a  dear  one  from  us,  leaving 
us  alone  in  our  great  bereavement  what  more  hope- 
ful verse  to  comfort  us  than  the  following,  which  I 
know  will  help  and  soothe  the  wound  as  nothing 
else  can  do. 

When  to  my  soul  you  come 
Missing  the  body  so 

Think  not,  that  I  am  dumb, 
All  of  your  grief  I  know. 


It  is  my  voice  you  hear, 
When  loving  life  so  well 

You  feel  no  passing  fear 
With  my  glad  soul  to  dwell. 

Here  in  this  narrow  bed 
God  gives  me  clearer  eyes 

All  that  I  did  and  said 
Lived  on  for  Paradise. 

So  simple  Heaven  is— - 
Life  is  but  truly  blest 

When  death  in  speechless  bliss 
Holds  wide  the  door  of  Rest. 

So  my  readers,  I  hope  my  foreword  may  take  root 
in  your  hearts  and  minds,  and  soothe  you  o'er  life's 
pathway  as  the  soft,  sweet  tones  from  the  violin,  or 
the  fragrance  from  the  purest  things  that  grow,  the 
flowers.  Beautiful,  fragile.  They  blossom,  bloom 
and  fade  within  a  day.  Heaven  sent  messages  from 

God. 

May  C.  Lassen. 


Page 

Autmn  Sadness 

1 

A  Hope 

2 

A  Memory 

3 

A  Lullaby 

4 

A  Regret 

5 

A  Summer  Morn 

6 

A  Sunset 

7 

A  Wish 

7 

A  Supplication 

8 

An  Awakening 

9 

A  Poem 

10-11 

At  Twilight 

12 

Christine 

13 

Fancied  Voices 

14 

For  You 

15 

Friendship 

16 

Full  Blown  Roses 

17 

In  May 

18 

Little  Hindu  Maid 

19 

My  Father 

20 

My  Desire 

21 

My  Ode 

22 

Not  Dead  24 

One  Day  25 

Poppies  26 

Remember  27 

Riverside  28 

The  Angelus  29 

The  Muse  29 

To  A  Japanese  Plum  Tree  30 

To  A  Magnolia  30 

To  California  31 

To  Nature  32 

To  My  Mother  33 

To  My  Sister  34 

To  Sister  Mary  Monica  35 

To  Germany  36 

Until  You  Came  37 

Waiting  38-39 


IN  russets,  reds,  and  golden  browned, 
^    The  silent  Autumn  woods  abound. 

With  fallen  leaves,  all  dry  and  sear, 
Proclaim  the  Winter-tide  is  near. 

Gone  are  the  birds  with  carols  gay, 
While  naked  trees  to  winds  give  sway, 

Sighing  a  low  sad  requiem, 
On  foliage  dying,  dead,  gone. 

So  in  the  Autumn  of  our  life, 
We  near  the  close  of  earthly  strife. 

And  melancholy  as  it  seems, 
Eternal  rest  fulfills  our  dreams. 


OENEATH  the  purple  shadows  of  the  hills, 
***    In  sweet  seclusion  quietly  I  roam. 

'Tween  jagged  rocks,  the  rivulets  and  rills 
Adown  the  mountains  ever  onward  rush 

To  join,  the  seething  river  white  with  foam. 
And  when  bright  and  twinkling  stars  at  night, 

Come  peeping  through  the  fine  feathery  leaves 
Of  the  graceful  tall  acacia  trees 

Swaying  so  gently  in  the  soft  moonlight 
I  close  my  eyes  and  hope  for  home, 

Alas,  when  I  no  longer  care  to  roam 
Beneath  the  purple  shadows  of  the  hills. 


A  Memory 

A  RE  you  to  be  only  a  memory, 
•''*"•    Only  a  memory  to  me, 

You  having  loved  me  so  dearly 
Vowing  ever  and  ever  loyalty? 

Can  it  be  I  shall  never  behold  thee, 
Or  gaze  in  your  eyes  deep  and  blue, 

That  ever  and  always  told  me, 
I  am  yours  forever  tender  and  true? 

If  it's  only  to  be  a  memory, 
A  mem'ry  of  you  and  of  me, 

Let  us  cherish  it  thus  fondly 
Ever  into  time  and  Eternity. 


A  Lullaby 

A  yjOTHER,  sing  that  Lullaby 
v\/  L    You  sang  so  long  ago. 

When  I  as  a  tiny  babe 
You  rocked  dear,  to  and  fro. 

Sleep  my  precious  Babe,  sleep  on. 
May  Angels  guard  my  care. 

God  in  Heaven  ever  will  know, 
He  will  hear  my  prayer. 


A  Regret 

To  My  Canary  Bird 

ART  dead  my  precious  bird,  art  dead? 
Why!  oh  why  was  I  ever  led 

To  part  from  thee;  so  very  dear 
Who  loved  me:  and  without  a  tear— - 

Give  thee  into  another's  hands, 
While  I  into  far  distant  lands 

Would  wander,  never  to  see  thee 
Nor  hear  thy  song  again  for  me. 

With  sweetest  melody  dids,t  tell 
All  thy  love;  thy  little  throat  would 

Swell  to  bursting,  with  flood  of  song, 
Jubilant,  all  the  whole  day  long. 


A  Sii:mint5.r 


ripening  fields  are  aglow 
'"•'      With  golden  sheaves  of  wheat 

While  the  air  is  soft  and  balmy 
With  scent  of  clover  sweet. 

The  wild  roses  in  full  blossom 
Are  wet  with  morning  dew, 

And  from  a  clump  of  shady  oaks 
The  wood  doves  bill  and  coo. 

I,  deeming  nature  sweet  and  kind. 
Watch  green  tasseled  barley 

Wave  silv'ry  in  the  summer  wind. 


A  v3u:u:>-ei: 

N  a  flaming  red 
Of  a  Western  sky, 
The  gold  sinking  sun 
Bids  the  day  good-by. 
And  twilight  is  led 
To  draw  the  night  nigh. 


o1 


A  Wisli 

kH  to  call  thee  mine  forever! 

Naught  to  part  us,  none  to  sever. 
After  living  out  rounded  years 
To  pass  forth  from  this  vale  of  tears, 

To  another  Life  together, 
Both  forever,   Aye!  forever. 


A   Supplication 

i  leave  me  alone  in  my  grief, 
That  I  may  find  quiet  relief 
With  Him,  in  meditation  sweet, 
Close  beneath  the  cross  at  His  feet. 

Where  I  may  pray  deep  from  my  heart, 
For  new  strength,  for  each  daily  part. 

To  lift  my  tired  soul  from  earth's  strife, 
Find  courage  through  all  this  vain  life. 


An  Awakening 

f  awoke  one  sad  early  morn 
*    To  find  that  I  was  old  and  worn, 

Youth  had  gone,  forever  had  fled, 
And  fond  friends  once  mine  were  silent 

In  yonder  City  of  the  Dead. 
The  World  quite  strange  to  me  did  seem! 

Had  I  been  living  in  a  dream 
That  I  forgot!  I  too  one  day 

Would  lose  my  beauty,  fade  away, 
To  be  as  is  the  common  lot, 

As  we'd  ne'er  been  and  quite  forgot! 


A  Poem 

To  My  Father 
The  Late  E.  L. 

Of  San  Francisco 
California's  Oldest  Florist 

I,  thou  shalt  not  have  lived  in  vain, 
And  glorified  shall  be  thy  name 
Yet,  within  the  State  Hall  of  Fame. 

Thy  youth  and  time  were  passed  in  this  our  State, 
Thy  toil  was  ever  early  and  'twas  late, 

To  use  thy  perfect  knowledge  great  and  grand, 
To  beautify  our  most  glorious  land. 

So  then  from  ev'ry  foreign  shore  there  came, 
Wond'rous  flowers,  various  trees  to  name 

To  California,  for  all  her  own, 
And  choicest  fruits,  and  many  vines  were  grown. 

To  thee  we  owe  the  Magnolia  tree. 
On  a  white  sailed  ship  from  over  the  sea, 

At  thy  command,  to  always  grace  our  clime 
'Twas  sent,  to  blossom,  ever,  for  all  time. 


10 


Camellias,  fuchias,  orchids  rare 
Thou  gavest  our  land  an  abundant  share. 

The  first  box-wood  hedge  all  trimmed  in  a  row, 
By  thy  artistic  hand  'twas  trained  to  grow. 

And  all  of  the  beautiful  lawns  so  green, 
Thy  master  mind,  alert,  laid  out  so  keen 

To  brighten  them  with  tulips  in  the  reds, 
And  most  gorgeous  were  their  blazing  beds. 

And  still  now  in  thy  ripe  age  so  serene, 
Thou  still  among  thy  plants  are  ever  seen, 

And  always  busy  art  thou,  as  the  bee 
That  hums  about  the  fragrant  flowr's  and  thee. 

Therefore  California,  our  great  State 
With  laurel  wreath,  before  it  is  too  late, 

Should,  surely  crown  thee  in  the  Hall  of  Fame 
And  pay  honor  to  her  first  Florist's  name. 


At  Twilight 

'ALLEYS  deepen  into  shades  of  twilight, 
And  hushed  are  the  carols  of  birds; 

Tinkling  sounds,  out  from  the  meadows, 
Came  from  grazing  homeward  bound  herds. 

With  the  sun's  afterglow,  night  comes  onward 
With  stars  twinkling,  radiant,  bright. 

While  cool  air  is  sweet  with  fragrance 
Of  flow'rs,  kissed  by  coming  moonlight. 

It  is  then  that  my  thoughts  to  you  wander 
In  silence,  I  live  o'er  again 

The  Past,  sweet  bliss  to  remember 
Where  now  only  ashes  remain. 


12 


Ciirisli.no 

j  know  a  spot  where  the  almond  trees  bloom 
^    In  perfect  profusion  of  pink  and  white, 

Where  bluest  of  skies  are  flooded  with  light, 
With  the  bright  rays  of  a  warm  golden  sun. 

Deep  blue  are  the  mountains,  all  tipped  with  snow, 
While  a  winding  river  glides  on  below 

In  a  green  and  peaceful  valley  serene. 
Here  in  this  quiet,  contented  I'd  dwell 

With  you  as  my  belov'd,  beautiful  Queen. 

Then  come  Christine,  where  the  almond  trees  bloom 
In  perfect  profusion  of  pink  and  white. 

When  soft  shades  of  evening  fade  into  night 
We'll  watch  in  a  wonderful  starlit  dome 

The  harvest  moon  rising  over  our  home. 


13 


Voices 


!  to  the  sounds,  echoing  sounds! 
m>  1    Which  fill  the  air,  so  clear  and  rare, 

With  melody  sweet,  soothe  all  care. 
Hark!  to  the  low  and  plaintive  note 

Weirdly  sad,  as  it  seems  to  float 
Into  distance,  which  knows  no  bounds. 

Art  thou  a  pure  and  captive  soul 
Of  a  dear  lost  love  long  since  fled 

From  out  the  sanctum  of  my  heart, 
Tho'  ne'er  forgot;  yet  perchance  dead? 

Oh!  can  it  be  still  loving  me 
With  thy  soft  pleading  voice  in  tears, 

Seek  thus  to  awaken  mem'ries 
Of  long  and  by-gone  yesteryears? 

Oh  hark!  hark,  pray  hark  to  the  sound 
Of  endless  love,  which  few  have  found. 

Calling  softly  and  intently, 
Oh!  come  dear  one,  oh!  come  to  me, 

And  on  wings  of  love  and  song,  I'll 
Bear  thee  on  to  Eternity. 


14 


For  You 

Barbara  Pendleton 


down  in  my  heart 
Is  a  spot  for  you, 
Where  blooms  a  flower 
Like  the  sky  of  blue. 

And  through  fading  years 
It  blossoms  anew, 

This  forget-me-not 
Flower,  with  love  true. 


i 


Friendship 

To  Harrison  Fisher 


as  the  flowers, 
*       I  bring  you  to-day, 

So  is  my  friendship 
For  you  thus  alway. 

Oh!  what  is  dearer 
Than  sweet  friendship  true. 

When  all  through  long  years 
It  but  firmer  grew. 


16 


l'ull..Blovy:n    Roses 

To  two  beautiful  women 

'  I  JWO  glorious  full-blown  roses 
•'•*      In  all  their  splendid  beauty  grand, 

Before  me  in  perfection  stand. 
Marv'ling  o'er  their  velvety  hue, 

Their  fragrance  sweet  me  nearer  drew. 
I  gaze,  both  roses  faintly  droop, 

So  watch  their  dainty  petals  fall. 
Methinks,  I  hear  a  voice—a  call, 

From  two  souls  borne  from  earthly  pain. 
As  slowly  petals  fall  again, 

Sighing,  "We  have  not  lived  in  vain." 


17 


IB  May 

O"  PRINGTIME  is  here,  it  is  the  month  of  May. 
^    The  honeysuckles  blooming  o'er  the  way, 

It's  climbing  with  its  blossoms  everywhere, 
Whose  dainty  perfume  permeates  the  air, 

And  brings  sweet  mem'ries  of  my  love  so  fair. 

When  the  honeysuckles  bloom  again 
And  the  humming  birds  are  here, 

Meet  me  in  the  shady  willow  lane 
Where  the  brooklet  babbles  near. 

There  in  the  summer's  warm  moonlight  night 
Our  love  we'll  tell  'neath  stars  bright. 

And  we'll  dream  of  future  happy  days, 
Of  our  love  to  last  always, 

When  the  honeysuckles  bloom  in  May. 


Little  Hindu  Maid 

Y  pretty  little  Hindu  Maid! 

As  brown  as  a  berry, 
Red  lips  like  a  cherry, 
With  eyes  as  black  as  night, 

Sparkling  like  jewels  bright 
They  fill  me  with  delight. 

My  pretty  little  Hindu  Maid. 

My  pretty  little  Hindu  Maid! 
Of  tiny  stature  neat, 

A  feather  on  her  feet, 
Her  dancing  is  divine, 

I'm  sure  to  call  her  mine, 
And  love  her  for  all  time. 

My  pretty  little  Hindu  Maid. 


19 


My 

|EAR  heart!  could  you  only  come  back  and  see 

The  garden,  the  same  as  it  used  to  be. 
The  Acacia  flow'ring  on  the  hill 
And  all  the  Shasta  Daisies  blooming  still. 
Sun  rays  piercing  the  Eucalyptus  trees 
Which  gently  sway,  fanned  by  the  first  Spring  breeze, 

The  path-way  you  trod  is  just  as  of  yore, 
Though  your  dear  foot-steps  will  fall  there  no  more. 


iV(y  De-yi.ro 

F  I  could  only  strew 
Your  lonely  grave  anew, 

In  the  silent  grey  dawn 
Of  each  awak'ning  morn, 

With  blossoms  fair  and  rare, 
Sweet  tenderness  and  care. 

'Twould  comfort  this  sad  heart 
Which  ne'er  has  ceased  to  smart, 

Since  your  pure  soul  took  flight 
On  that  mem'rable  night, 

Leaving  me  e'er  to  mourn, 
Forgotten  and  forlorn. 


21 


My  Ocie 

To  Red  Bhiff  and  Friends 

I   HE  day  draws  close,  the  time  is  nigh, 
•^      When  farewell  I  must  say, 
To  those  I  love  and  learned  to  love, 
Forever  and  a  day. 
With  tearful  eyes  and  many  sighs 
I  slowly  wend  my  way, 
To  soothe  each  heart  from  whom  I  part 
With  "  Farewell "  for  my  lay. 
Farewell  to  hills  I  dearly  love, 
Green  valleys  and  clear  skies. 
Where  blue  towering  mountains,  with 
Mt.  Lassen,  snow-capped  rise. 
To  Tuscan  Buttes  which  facinate, 
I  too  must  say  farewell. 
For  daily  do  mine  eyes  on  these 
In  renewed  fondness  dwell. 
Farewell  to  pretty  gardens,  with 
Roses,  entangling  rose. 
Among  their  perfumed  beauty  oft' 
I  found  such  sweet  repose. 
Farewell,  farewell  my  song  my  lay, 
The  saddest  yet,  you  say 
That  I  have  ever  sung  to  thee? 
Bless  your  hearts,  in  my  heart 
My  lasting  song  for  you  will  be 
"Always  Fond  Memory!" 


Mot  Dead 


|  see  you  ev'ry  where! 
*    In  ev'ry  budding  rose, 

In  ev'ry  plant  that  grows, 
E'en  in  the  trees  that  sigh, 

I  feel  your  presence  nigh. 
Oh  no!  you  are  not  dead! 

Only  your  soul  has  fled, 
Your  mem'ry  lives  each  hour 

In  ev'ry  lovely  flow'r. 


24 


0:rre  Day 

day  I  think  you  will  be  glad  to  know 
That  1  have  kept  your  image  in  my  heart, 

And  through  all  the  long  and  lonely  sad  years 
That  we  have  ever  lived  so  far  apart, 

My  love  for  you  has  only  deeper  grown. 
One  day  perchance  idly  dreaming;  the  past 

May  kindly  turn  your  thoughts  again  to  me. 
Will  you  acknowledge  my  true  love  at  last 

Regretting  what  your  life  has  sadly  missed 
When  the  illusions  have  been  hard  to  bear, 

Or  you  are  tired,  weary  and  forlorn, 
And  there  is  none  to  comfort  or  to  care: 

Oh!  will  you  close  your  eyes  and  quietly  dream 
Of  my  fond  kisses,  tender,  soft  and  light, 

My  fingers  gently  smoothing  back  your  hair, 
And  cheering  you  to  make  your  dear  life  bright. 

Oh!  will  you  then  remember  and  be  glad, 
That  I  have  always  kept  you  in  my  heart, 

And  that  your  soul's  true  home  will  yet  be  there- 
Although  we  are  now  silent  and  apart. 


25 


]J    OOK  out  upon  that  field  ablaze 
•"'    With  glorious  poppies  so  bright! 

Their  cups  are  filled  with  morning  dew 
Which  sparkles  ever  in  the  light. 

O  poppies  of  the  Golden  West 
In  Springtime  bloom  you  are  your  best. 

O'er  hill  and  vale  and  all  around 
Your  golden  color  does  abound; 

And  when  the  twilight  shadows  fall, 
Your  heads  in  good-night  nod  to  all. 


f    fE  said  good-by,  he  kissed  my  hand, 
!  A    Whispering  sweet  and  low, 

Remember  dear  and  don't  forget 
My  love,  I  love  you  so. 

"  If  you  forget,  you  cannot  love, " 
I  whisper  to  him  low, 

"And  having  loved  you  can't  forget 
My  love,  I  love  you  so." 


27 


OEMMED  in  among  the  purple  hills 
*  •"*    Lies  romantic  Riverside, 

Known  as  The  Mission  City, 
Ever  so  far  and  so  wide. 

Her  roses  in  perfection  bloom. 
And  trailing  and  flow'ry  vines 

Vie  with  showy  beauty  here 
Above  all  the  other  climes. 

Her  famous  orange  groves  aglow, 
All  in  splendor,  with  ripe  fruit, 

Or  with  budding  branches  low, 
Full  with  waxen  blossoms  sweet. 

Then  far  upon  Mt.  Roubidoux 
Saint  Junipero  Serra's  cross 

Stands,  where  tourists  ever  meet. 


28 


I' Si.:)      A.M:;;;|U;; 

I  ")  ING,  sweet  Angelus,  ring, 

^  ^    That  we  may  kneel  and  bring 

Worship,  thanks  and  song, 
To  Him,  who'll  right  all  wrong. 

Ring,  sweet  Angelus,  ring, 
That  we  may  bow,  and  sing 

God's  praises,  ever  more 
Our  Maker,  we  adore. 

TlvO  'tYt'USO 

N  deep  slumbers  of  the  night, 
A  soft  kiss  on  my  brow, 

A  whisper  in  mine  ear, 
Bids  me  awaken  now. 

The  Muse  am  I,  in  thee  born, 
No  longer  canst  thou  sleep, 

Rise  and  ride  Pegasus, 
Thy  verse  to  write  and  keep, 

And  1  will  give  thee  Fame, 
With  Poet  for  thy  name. 


29 


To  A  jau.utmo  Vkim  Troo 


Japanese  plum  tree, 
In  my  garden  grows, 
It  blooms  and  blossoms 
Tho'  the  March  wind  blows. 

Its  pretty  shining  leaves, 
Brush  my  window  screen 

I  fancy  they  sigh, 
"We  keep  ever  green 

With  the  cypress  nigh-- 

Green,  ever  green." 

To  A  Magnolia 

^  sweet  Magnolia  blossom, 
ITA    Of  such  milky  whiteness  fair, 

How  I  do  adore  your  beauty, 
Your  odor  so  rich  and  rare. 

Your  wonderful  green  leaves  so  glossy, 
Oh,  most  beautiful  are  they! 

Alas!  your  glorious  beauty, 
Can  only  last  but  a  day. 


30 


To  California 

ON  the  heights  I  stand, 
Mark  the  slanting  rays, 

Of  a  sinking  sun 
Creep  through  tall  pine  trees 

Of  noble  forests  grand. 
T'is  California!  my  native  land. 

Here  rivers,  vast  mountains. 
Rushing  falls  and  streams 

Lead  one  ever  on  to  dreams. 
While  glorious  nature  is  seen 

Reigning  in  majesty  supreme. 
Oh  California!  an  alien 

Long  from  thy  sunny  shore, 
Let  me  linger  near  the  bosom 

Of  thy  sloping  hills,  ever  more. 


31 


who  art  overwhelmingly  grand 
Forsooth,  I  ever  acknowledge  stand, 
Before  thy  strength,  thy  beauty  serene 
And  thy  superb  majesty  supreme. 

To  thee  I  come,  weary  of  the  day, 
Hopeful  of  finding  yet  the  true  way, 

Pour  forth  all  the  desires  of  my  soul, 
My  inmost  thoughts,  new-born  and  untold. 

For  Oh!  in  my  heart,  thou  calmest  me, 
And  so  for  this  balm,  I  adore  thee, 

To  thy  mountains,  thy  hills  and  thy  streams, 
Confide  I  all  my  secrets  and  dreams; 

In  thy  broad  bosom  safely  are  locked 
By  faithless  hearts  ne,er  to  be  mocked. 


32 


To  My  Moi;Ko( 

A  N  Irish  beauty  was  my  mother  fair! 

r  ^    Like  the  raven's  wing  was  her  glossy  hair. 

And  her  eyes  the  modest  violet's  blue, 
Whose  silken  lashes  but  enhanced  their  hue. 

Of  a  personality  fine  and  rare, 
Was  my  ever  beautiful  mother  fair. 

With  a  voice  of  a  low  and  pleading  tone, 
Whose  accents  tender,  would  charm  you  alone. 

Many  years  have  flown  since  she  passed  away, 
Yet  I  know  she's  with  me  every  day. 

And  sometimes  I  feel  the  touch  of  her  hand 
Guiding  me  on  toward  the  better  land. 


33 


T© 

Lovingly  dedicated  to  my  sister, 

Mo 

Convent  of  Mercj, 
Rsd  Bluff  California, 

[OBLE  and  grand  of  character  she, 

That  will  bloom  into  Eternity. 
Sweet  and  gentle  as  a  child 
Truly  pious,  meek  and  mild. 

All  the  goodness  of  her  heart 
Tranquilly  she  does  impart, 

And  her  loftiness  of  mind 
Is  Ideality,  of  rarest  kind. 

Full  of  grace  and  wit  is  she, 
Versatile,  e'er  with  variety, 

She  could  any  Throne  adorn 
For  she's  to  the  manner  born. 


To  Sister  Mary  Monica, 

Academy  of  Our  Lady  of  Mercy, 
Red  Bluff,  California. 

OATIENTLY  she  wends  her  way, 
^       Feeble,  aged,  tired  and  worn. 

In  the  eventide  of  Life, 
Faithfully,  her  cross  she's  borne. 

All  the  sorrow,  pain  and  strife, 
It  was  all;  she  called  her  own. 

Soon  in  everlasting  sleep 
She'll  awaken,  near  God's  Throne. 


35 


T©  Germany 

|H  Germany!      Oh  Vaterland! 
Land  of  my  ancestors 

Where  heroes  stand,  and  stood 
Down  into  ages, 

With  a  most  illustrious  name, 
Let  not  this  cruel  war  forced  on  thee 

Wreck  alas,  thy  glorious  fame, 
Nor  pluck  the   golden  eagle 

From  Prussia's  waving  flag 
Of  black  and  white 

Nor  hurl  thy  Nation 
Into  grief  and  flight. 

Oh  Germany!      It  breaks  my  heart 
To  see  thee  rise 

From  out  thy  peaceful  land, 
And  battle  with  a  foe 

But  yesterday  thy  friend. 
Yet,  since  the  Fates  have  willed  it  so, 

Perchance  they  too,  a  hand  will  lend 
To  give  thee  strength  and  bravery 

For  conquest,'gainst  the  many  to  the  end. 
So  thou  canst  keep  thy  unsullied  name 

For  unborn  children  thine  to  be, 
As  a  Nation  guiltless,  and  forever  free. 


36 


Until  You  Came. 

UNTIL  you  came,  the  passing  days  were  drear, 
The  brightest  sun  seemed  dim, 
The  bluest  skies  not  clear. 
All  was  sad,  while  loneliness  and  tears, 

Filled  my  yearning  heart  with  untold  fear, 
Of  all  the  to-morrows  yet  to  come 

Which  unfilled,  would  pass  into  yester  years. 

Until  you  came,  my  life  seemed  dead. 
Withered  like  flowers  of  other  days, 

With  the  sweet  songs  of  birds  long  fled. 
Anguish,  pent  up  in  my  longing  soul 

In  vain,  itself  to  free,  out  of  exquisite  pain 
Of  a  loveless  captivity,  until  you  came. 


37 


My  Boy 

JHE  cold,  chill  winds  blow, 

Deep,  white,  glistening  snow 
Covers  the  country  wide. 
Quiet  at  the  fireside 
I  sit,  dream  and  wait. 

The  first  Spring  breeze  blows, 
Trailing  arbutus  grows, 

And  birds  sing  on  the  wing, 
New  life  in  ev'rything 
Yet  I  dream  and  wait. 

Summer  comes  around, 
With  its  beauties  abound; 
Birds  and  bees  and  flowers, 
And  sunny  happy  hours, 
Still  I  dream  and  wait. 

Autumn  winds  blow  drear, 
Bare  trees  and  leaves  all  sear, 
The  song  birds  long  since  fled, 
And  dying  roses  dead. 
Yet  I  dream  and  wait. 


38 


Winter  once  more  near, 
With  frost  and  blue  skies  clear, 
And  one  who  should  be  here, 
Ne'er  comes,  nor  will,  I  fear. 
Yet  I'll  dream  and  wait. 


39 


YC   1453! 


U.C.BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


